Tag-Archive for » humiliation «

Feb
22
You can’t take me anywhere
Amy

Went out with friends on Saturday.  We walked over to Moons for lunch, where we ate Bleu Moon burgers and sweet potato fries – yum.  We perused shop windows, where we gaped and giggled at items such as funky red and yellow shoes that gave nod to their bowling cousins.  We loved them (okay, two of us loved them; the other two pretended not to know us).  And since we were still a bit early for the show, we meandered into the Boise State store.  Being a friendly lot, we greeted the cashier before zig-zagging our way to the wee apparel.  I had just voiced my displeasure over the fact that they didn’t have a grey and blue football jersey similar to the pink one when when I felt a tug on my coat sleeve.  Oddly enough, that’s about the time I heard a crash.  I looked down to find a comperjogged shelf, and bottles and blankets strung about the floor.  I just stood there, blinking.  It couldn’t possibly be me, right?  There was no tripping, no sweep of my large purse.  I didn’t flail; I didn’t swear.  So you’re telling me a coat sleeve caused the calamity?!  C’mon!

Of course, as my friends so kindly pointed out, the shelf was made of wood, the bottles plastic – even the blankets remained sweetly tied with ribbon.  We had only to crawl on all fours to retrieve the items – quickly, before the girl came back to see what-in-the-world was going on.  

So as humiliating episodes go, I guess you could say this one was a winner!

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Dec
10
The gingerbread ghetto
Amy

gingerbread_house

Some friends invited me to join them for dinner and gingerbread-house-making festivities.  I’ve never made a gingerbread house before.  But it looked as though it would be fine.  There was peppermint hot cocoa to inspire and myriad candies and kits to get us on our way.  Piece of cake (or cookie, as the case may be), right?  Oh so very wrong, my friends.  I had more issues than I’d care to recall.  There was one flittering moment when I felt I was finally getting my creative groove; I was on my way to making the most fantastical side windows imaginable … then I caved in the wall.  Two hours, dozens of napkins and paper towels later - with icing every which way but set and a floor that appeared to be snowed in – this was as good as it got.   

Before we arrived my friend Kristi as telling me this would be her first experience making a gingerbread house as well.  ”I’m just hoping someone’s looks more lame than mine,” she said. 

So behold!  A Christmas wish granted …

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Apr
09
My life: errands
Amy

circus

There are weeks when it seems all I get done is running this way and that.  This was one such week.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s been a good week - ever so productive.  It’s just been a bit crazy.  Here are a few of the places you could have spotted me this week …

Strength training.  We started Palates this week for strength training.  Now I have a hard time balancing on my own two feet – and they’re wanting me to balance atop a large rubber ball.  Needless to say, I was the only one in the class who could not – for the life of me – alight.  I did, however, get a good calf-workout from the tippy-toe action I had goin’ on.  I’ll keep practicing; after all, it’s always good to add skills.  That way, if my writing gig doesn’t pan out, I can always join the circus.

Car dealership.  Took my car to the dealership for an oil change.  Thankfully they did not ask what happened to my bumper.  No matter how you explain it, it always manages to come out like, “Dude!  I totally drove through a fence … it was AWESOME!”  Of course, I fully intended to take advantage of the time waiting for my car by editing.  I sat to the back of the waiting area … away from the door and the television … pulled out my hard copy, my pen, my highlighter, my wee sticky notes and began mumbling quietly to myself.  It didn’t work.  First, I had to worry about the little fellow who wobbled back to my area and struggled to get up on a chair … all while his father laughed from afar.  Seriously.  The floor was slate; and he was precarious at best.  Luckily, he got bored and moved on.  Mr. Banker Man took his place.  Mr. Banker Man decided to make an all-important-phone call – but he didn’t want to disrupt the group of men watching ESPN, so he casual strolled back and hovered right next to me.  I will never – in a million years – bank where he works.  Not that I’m bitter …  

Walgreens.  With Easter being Sunday, I ventured to Walgreens for chocolate and cellophane.  Found the chocolate – could not find the cellophane.  Finally broke down and asked the clerk.  She rolled her eyes and pointed.  There it was,  wedged between the DVDs and cameras.  Oh, right… that’s all I got out before she smirked and said, “Yeah, I’m like Whatever …it’s right there!”  Right, whatever, because I was only looking down the Easter and wrapping isles – places that ACTUALLY MADE SENSE!!!  Aaah, feel that Easter love …

Albertsons.  Coupons in hand, I headed to Albertsons to buy a few groceries.  I had just grabbed a box of kleenex and was heading for the milk, when I heard a cart coming.  Instead of inching out into the isle, or glaring at the person walking in front of me, I decided I would just pretend to be looking at an item to purchase.  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed it was a guy who works at Albertsons … see him quite frequently, actually.  It was about that same time I truly paid attention to what I was intently starting at.  I don’t even have to say it, do I?  That’s right.  Trojans.  Pleasure pack or ecstasy?  It’s so hard to choose …

Starbucks.  Met my friend at Starbucks this morning.  We were just getting ready to leave when she exclaims, “Winston!”  Winston, you see, attended High School with us.  Now you must understand, the same pitiful syndrome that assails me when I meet a cute guy, hits me when I see someone from High School.  If you’ve ever seen me in action, you understand this is a grave, grave situation.  So there I sat, concentrating all my energy on my invisibility superpowers.  It would have worked too, had my friend not said, “And here’s Amy!  You remember Amy!”  [whimper]  He shook my hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”  I laughed – that airy laugh reserved for moments of sheer and utter panic.  And it went downhill from there.  Seriously.  I was a mess.  He asked what I was up to and I mumbled, “Writing.”  “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” “I write … I’m a writer … I’m boring.”  No, my friends, I did not make that up.  I said it.  Out loud.  Twice actually, because he tried again before he left.  It’s like I have this overwhelming need to confirm the worst they could possibly think of me.  

Let’s all say it together … good times …

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Sep
27
My life: oh the humanity!
Amy

Humiliating Episode #523:

I have a certain pair of sandals with a goofy wooden heel and absolutely no arch support.  To say they are tricky to walk in would be the understatement of the year; but they are so terribly cute and so I must.  Or so I thought until yesterday; yesterday I was wearing said shoes.  The clinic my mom works for is a sponsor of the Women’s Fitness Celebration and it was mum’s turn to man the booth.  Being the good daughter that I am, I offered to swing by and pick her up so she wouldn’t have to pay the approximate price of a small island to park. 

Being the lovely fall day that is was, I decided to detour through 8th Street Marketplace – meander about, do a bit of window shopping.  I had just checked to see how big my butt looked in the Urban Outfitters window when I realized something was terribly amiss.  That’s where things get a bit fuzzy.  All I know for sure is my ankle buckled … I struggled, I flailed, I said “the S-word.”  The next thing I knew I was on all fours, my purse flung to the ground in front of me.  Oh the humanity!  Considering the fact that a major event was going on directly across the street I was not lacking in spectators.  Like it wasn’t bad enough to be in such a position in the middle of a shopping district – but to be surrounded by people gaping in horror?  You have GOT to be kidding me!  Yes, I said.  Out loud.  Sigh. 

Needless to say, from that point forward it was typical HRT (Humiliation Response Tactics):  I grabbed my purse, stood up, and limped off as if nothing had happened.  All the while praying that I would never again have to face one of the 100 or so witnesses of my most recent low point. 

Perhaps the worst part of all is the fact that the thought crossed my mind – several times actually – that I really should change my shoes before heading downtown.  But I brushed the thought away.  After all, they matched my outfit perfectly; they were cuter than ever; AND they were already on my feet.  Not to mention, I would ony be out for a short period of time.  If only I had paid heed.

So the moral of the story:  If God tells you to change your shoes before going out in public, change your shoes …

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